


Slytherin Pride I: Welcome to Slytherin House

by Si1verwing



Series: Slytherin Pride [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Diagon Alley, Gen, Hogwarts First Year, Knight Bus, Teasers & Trailers, The Golden Trio Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 10:38:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12341016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Si1verwing/pseuds/Si1verwing
Summary: Chapter 1/a teaser for the story of Mary O'Riordan, a witch who finds herself unexpectedly Sorted into Slytherin House, and as the days go by, she forms friendships, struggles with inter-House prejudice, and learns that Slytherin House is more than it seems.





	Slytherin Pride I: Welcome to Slytherin House

            Mary-Ann O’Riordan was sleeping soundly, unaware that the day she had been waiting for, ever since her mother first told her there was a place where she could learn to control the odd things she could do, and learn more at the same time—to transform one object to another with a flick of her wand, to disappear and reappear in a completely different place at will, to brew elixirs that could do much better than just cure ailments—had finally arrived. Her excitement had been mounting steadily over the years, and mounting less steadily over the past several weeks. She had barely been able to fall asleep last night, and now, it seemed unlikely she would wake up—that is, at least, until she rolled over and fell out of bed.

            She sat up, pulled the hair out of her mouth, and climbed back into bed, fully intending on going back to sleep, until she caught a glimpse of the calendar on her wall. She gasped and shrieked _‘It’s July the first!’_ , snatched up her glasses from her bedside table, jammed them on (poking herself in the eye in the process), then threw back the covers and tore out of her bedroom, running straight into what appeared to be a laundry basket with legs. Both Mary and the laundry basket fell down and emitted two loud squeals.

            ‘Oh! Sorry, Seena!’ Mary said, pulling a pillowcase off of her head.

            ‘It’s quite alright, miss!’ a squeaky voice said, and from underneath a bedsheet emerged a creature half the size of a human, with bat-like ears, large brown eyes, and a very pointed nose, wearing a tea-towel draped like a toga. Seena the house-elf gathered up the rest of the sheets and returned them to the basket while Mary ran into the sitting room. She was about to open the door to the foyer when—

            ‘What’re ye doin’ up this early?’

            Annie O’Riordan, Mary’s mother, a tall, formidable-looking woman with green eyes and chocolate brown hair was standing in the sitting room, still in her dressing gown, woken up by the racket caused when Mary collided with Seena in the hallway.

            ‘Mam, it’s the first of July!’ Mary said excitedly. ‘I’m goin’ outside to wait for the postman to bring me letter!’

            ‘Ye’re still in yer nightclothes and yer hair is a mess!’ Annie responded. ‘Ye’re not goin’ outside lookin’ like that! And what d’ye mean, ye’re goin’ out to wait for the postman? He won’t be here fer another couple o’ hours.’

            ‘But what if he comes early?’ Mary asked.

            ‘I doubt it,’ Annie laughed.

            ‘Mam, pleeeeease?’ Mary begged.

            Annie eyed her daughter beadily for a moment, then said ‘Oh, alright. But at least change yer clothes and brush yer hair.’

            Mary ran back down the hall and into her bedroom and looked in the mirror. An eleven-year-old girl with hazel eyes behind black, horn-rimmed glasses, and rather messy, shoulder length, dark strawberry-blonde hair looked back at her. She snatched up her hairbrush and hurriedly ran it through her hair, then started to change.

            As soon as she was dressed, she ran back down the hall (narrowly avoiding Seena again) and out of the house. She hurtled down the drive, wrenched open the gate, and stood by the letterbox, practically vibrating with anticipation, to wait.

            Two hours and an insistent stack of toast from her mother later, Mary saw the postman appear over the top of the hill her house rested on, and let out a shriek. It seemed to take hours for him to deliver the post for the other houses on the way to hers. When it was finally their turn, he approached Mary with a puzzled expression on his face. He reached into his bag and held out their stack for her. She didn’t take it, but instead searched through it until she found an envelope made of thick yellow parchment. She removed it to see ‘Miss M. O’Riordan’ above her address, handwritten in green ink. She flipped it over to see a purple wax seal stamped with a lion, snake, badger, and eagle all surrounding the letter ‘H’—the Hogwarts crest. She turned and ran back through the gate and towards the house, shrieking, and leaving their even more flummoxed postman to leave the rest of their post in the letterbox.

            Mary plunked herself down as soon as she had shut the front door and eagerly opened her letter, pulling out two sheets of parchment. She looked at the first page to see the Hogwarts crest above the written words:

            ‘Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

            Dear Miss O’Riordan,

            We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

            Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

            Yours sincerely,

            Minerva McGonagall  
            Deputy Headmistress.’

            She had read about Dumbledore. He was in nearly every book about relatively recent magical discoveries and accomplishments, every witch and wizard had heard about his defeat of the Dark wizard Grindelwald, either through their parents or through books, and her mother remembered Dumbledore from her days at Hogwarts and praised him as an absolute genius, if a bit loopy at times.

            The second sheet was longer and folded in three, and she had to turn it on its side to read it. On the first third was the Hogwarts crest again over the writing:

            ‘Uniform

            First-year students will require:

            1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)  
            2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear  
            3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
            4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

            Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags’

            The centre third read:

            ‘Set Books

            All students should have a copy of each of the following:

            The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 by Miranda Goshawk  
            A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot  
            Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling  
            A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch  
            One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore  
            Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger  
            Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander  
            The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble’

            Even the names of the books sounded interesting. On the right fold were written the words:

            ‘Other Equipment

            1 wand  
            1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
            1 set glass or crystal phials  
            1 telescope  
            1 set brass scales

            Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

            Parents are reminded that first-years are not allowed their own broomsticks’

            ‘Mam!’ Mary shouted.

            ‘Yes?’ her mother’s voice sounded from the kitchen.

            ‘Can I borrow Sloane and can we please go to Diagon Alley today?!’ Mary asked.

            Annie laughed. ‘I understand ye’re eager, love, but it’s all the way in London.’

            ‘So?’ Mary asked.

            ‘So, we can’t Apparate there an’ back,’ Annie explained. ‘No’ with all o’ yer shoppin’, and yer luggage an’ a pet when it’s time to go to King’s Cross. An’ I’d really rather take the Knight Bus with as little heavy luggage as possible. We’ll go a week before the train’s due to leave.’

            Mary gave a huff of annoyance. Her mother had told her so much about the Wizarding world, she had really wanted to go today and see it for herself. Now she would have to wait almost two more months...still, that was no reason to delay her reply. She returned the letter and equipment list to their envelope and opened the writing desk. She extracted a quill and a sheet of parchment and wrote out a reply.

            ‘Dear Professor McGonagall,

            I will definitely be attending Hogwarts and am looking forward to the first day of term, especially the Sorting.

            Yours sincerely,

            Mary O’Riordan’

            She rolled up the letter, took a leather string from the drawer, and went into the back garden. Sloane, her mother’s eagle owl, was standing on the perch, sleeping with her head under her wing. Mary gently prodded her awake, then tied the scroll to her outstretched leg. Sloane gave a sleepy hoot and took flight.

—

Mary went running into the kitchen. Or trying to, for she was dragging her trunk behind her. Seven weeks had finally passed, and she and her family had packed last night. Her mother had sent a letter to Tom, the innkeeper for the Leaky Cauldron, arranging a room for the four of them to stay in for the week leading up to Mary’s departure for Hogwarts.

            Her father, Sean O’Riordan, a man whose hair, eyes, and glasses Mary had inherited, was sitting at the kitchen table next to his wife, drinking a glass of pumpkin juice (which he had taken rather a liking to after marrying Annie) and reading a newspaper.

            Her five-year-old sister, Gwendolyn, who resembled her mother as much as Mary resembled her father, was also sitting at the table (on a few books so she could reach), chasing a stubbourn bit of egg that refused to get on her fork. Sean, Annie, and Gwendolyn were already dressed, though still looking sleepy. They would be taking the Knight Bus to the Leaky Cauldron in Charing Cross, and had to get up early to make sure there were no Muggles around.

            Mary sat down at the table by her father, who kissed her on the head. She pulled the pan full of eggs and a plate of bacon towards her and dished some onto her own plate. She poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice and ate fast, as if this would affect the time at which they left. After about ten minutes (though it felt much longer to her), the rest of her family was done with their breakfast. Mary ran back out of the kitchen to put on her shoes, and she had just finished lacing them up when her parents and Gwen came round the corner, her father holding their luggage.

            ‘So can we go now?’ Mary asked.

            ‘Got yer letter?’ Annie asked, and Mary waved it in the air. ‘Let’s go, then.’

            ‘Seena?’ Mary said, and the elf appeared around the corner.

            ‘Yes, Miss Mary?’ she said.

            ‘Goodbye!’ Mary said, smiling. ‘I’m going to miss you. Well, until Christmas at least.’

            ‘Goodbye, miss,’ Seena said, returning the smile and curtsying.

            Mary went back into the hall, took hold of her trunk, and tried to drag it to the front door. Her father laughed.

            ‘Here,’ he said, handing Mary the case he was holding. ‘You take this one, we’ll carry yours.’ He and his wife each took a handle of the trunk and carried it out the door, Annie holding Gwen by the hand.

            Mary followed her mother, father, and sister out of the house, down the drive, and onto the kerb. Annie flung out her right arm, and with a tremendous BANG, right before them appeared an extremely purple triple-decker bus. The doors opened, and out jumped a conductor in a matching purple uniform; a pimply, jug-eared teenager who looked like he was still Hogwarts age.

            ‘Welcome to the Knight Bus,’ he said. ‘Emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I’ll be your conductor for today. Where to?’

            ‘Leaky Cauldron, Charing Cross,’ Annie said, while Gwen was looking at the bus in awe.

             They boarded the Knight Bus. It was filled, not with normal bus seats, but with several mismatched armchairs. There were candle brackets on the walls and several people still collecting their scattered packages off the floor. Stan turned to the driver, who was sitting in a similar armchair.

            Annie and Sean set Mary’s trunk down by an armchair, and Mary stowed her parents’ case underneath it. She sat down on her trunk, Annie sat in the armchair with Gwen in her lap, and Sean stood beside his wife. Stan sat down across from them.

            With another resounding BANG, they were off. Sean reflexively flung out his arm and grabbed a candle bracket before falling onto the floor, Mary slid sideways on her trunk and against her mother’s chair, and Gwen shrieked and hung tightly to her mother, but Annie looked completely unconcerned.

            The Knight Bus gave another BANG and they were travelling along a mid-city highway, filled mostly with early-morning commuters. BANG, they were on a dirt road, and the bus stopped to let another passenger on. BANG, seaside lane. The driver did not seem to be a very good one; he kept swerving left and right, although he never seemed to hit anything; trees and lampposts and letterboxes and even entire buildings seemed to just jump out of the way as they trundled along, the bus’s passengers swaying back and forth.

            ‘I still can’t understand how this is even possible,’ Sean said, still clutching the candle bracket.

            ‘Magic,’ Annie said simply.

            ‘So...if there’s anything in regards to your world I don’t understand, it’s pretty much safe to assume the answer is magic?’ he said, smiling slightly.

            ‘Yep,’ she replied.

            The bus continued to make more stops and location changes, each time with a loud BANG, until at last they were driving along a road in what looked like the commercial district of a town. The bus stopped, and Annie removed Gwen from her lap and stood up, cueing her husband and daughter to do the same.

            They collected their items and hopped off the bus in front of a music shop and a bookstore. The sign hanging over the small pub sitting between the two shops depicted the silhouette of a Muggle’s idea of a witch stirring a large cauldron with a hole in the bottom, potion spilling out of it.

            ‘Now, let me guess,’ Annie said, turning to Sean, ‘you can’t see anything between the music store and bookstore, can you?’

            ‘No,’ said Sean. ‘I just see an empty space. But I’m assuming it’s much more than that?’

            ‘Mmhmm,’ Annie said. ‘Mary, I’ve told you about it. Wanna take a guess?’

            Mary opened her mouth, but it was Gwen who answered. ‘Leaky Cauldron,’ she said.

            ‘Yep,’ said her mother again, and she led the other three inside.

            A few of the tables were occupied by guests having breakfast. One lady was reading the _Daily Prophet_ while her toast spread itself with marmalade. A stooped, toothless, elderly man was standing at the bar, wiping out glasses.

            ‘Morning, Tom,’ Annie said as they passed.

            ‘Madam O’Riordan,’ said Tom. ‘And this must be your family.’

            ‘Hello,’ said Sean.

            ‘Nice to meet you,’ Mary said. Gwendolyn simply waved.

            ‘This way, please,’ Tom said, and the four followed him up a flight of stairs and into a sitting room with three doors leading off it. He handed Annie a key and bowed out of the room. They deposited their luggage in each of the two small bedrooms, then left and descended back into the pub (Sean being nearly as interested to see Diagon Alley as his daughters).

            They went out the back door and stood facing a brick wall and a dustbin.

            ‘Watch this,’ Annie said, taking out her wand and tapping a brick above the dustbin.

            The brick began to wriggle, and then it and the others began to spin, moving aside to form a large stone archway leading onto a crowded cobbled street full of talking and laughing shoppers and lined with all sorts of magical shops. A stack of cauldrons outside Potage’s Cauldron Shop gleamed copper and gold in the sunlight; animals that would convince Muggles they were going mad were glittering, crawling, and flapping inside the Magical Menagerie; instruments Mary and Gwen and certainly Sean had never seen before were spinning and clicking in the windows of Wiseacre’s Wizarding Equipment.

            ‘Welcome,’ said Annie, ‘to Diagon Alley.’

            Mary looked up at her mother, smiling widely. ‘This is the best place I’ve ever been,’ she said.

            ‘I know,’ her mother replied. ‘I remember the first time I ever visited, when me mam took me, me neck was sore from lookin’ around so much. Now I know this place backwards and forwards.’

            She led the three down the road. Mary peered down a dark alleyway.

            ‘Wha’s tha’ lead to?’ she asked her mother.

            ‘Tha’s Knockturn Alley, an’ we are _not_ goin’ down there,’ Annie said, suddenly stern.

            ‘Why not?’ Mary asked.

            ‘Because it’s entirely devoted to the Dark Arts an’ the people that shop there are not people I want you three surrounded by, even with me. Especially you,’ Annie said, turning to face her husband.

            ‘Why especially me?’ Sean asked.

            ‘Because usually the Dark Arts enthusiasts of the Wizarding community are also pure-blood fanatics. They don’ take kindly to Muggles and some o’ them are very nasty. We’re goin’ to Madam Malkin’s, to get ye fitted,’ she said, redirecting her attention to Mary.

            Mary gasped, forgetting about Knockturn Alley entirely. ‘Yay!’ she said.

            ‘They’re just robes,’ Annie laughed.

            ‘Yes, but everyone in the Wizarding community wears them!’ Mary explained. ‘With me own robes an’ wand I’ll feel like a proper witch!’

            ‘Ye’re already a proper witch,’ Annie said. ‘Ye’ve got magical powers, that’s all ye need to be a witch. O’ course, ye will need to wait until ye’re seventeen to be able to use ‘em whenever ye want, and ye will need to follow the law. Once ye get yer wand and ye’re enrolled at Hogwarts ye’re considered responsible fer yerself, an’ ye can get punished by the Ministry.’

            ‘But what if I get into trouble an’ the only way to save meself is to use magic?’ Mary asked. ‘An’ what if I lose me temper, an’ wind up makin’ something explode or—or catch fire, or anything else, by accident?’

            ‘There’s something under the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Sorcery that allows the use o’ magic in life-threatening situations,’ Annie said, ‘an’ ye don’ usually get punished fer accidental, wandless magic. Even adults lose their ‘eads sometimes.’

            They entered Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, and a plump witch with a kind face approached them.

            ‘Hogwarts, dear?’ she asked Mary.

            ‘Yes,’ Mary responded, smiling.

            Annie, Sean, and Gwen sat down on chairs by the door and waited while Madam Malkin pinned the robe to Mary’s size.

            ‘So, got any particular House you’re hoping for?’ Madam Malkin asked through a mouthful of pins.

            ‘Oh, I dunno!’ Mary said. ‘Mam’s told me about all the Houses, an’ I can’t choose! She herself was in Hufflepuff.’

            ‘Well, it tends to go through families,’ Madam Malkin said. ‘But that’s not a hard and fast rule. You’ll find the occasional Gryffindor in a family of Slytherins.’

            ‘Oh, well, not all Slytherins can be evil,’ Mary said, noting the tone in Madam Malkin’s voice. ‘If they were, there’d be a lot more Dark witches an’ wizards runnin’ about, wouldn’t there?’

            ‘Well, no, logically,’ Madam Malkin said. ‘But it’s better to be safe than sorry when it comes to meeting new people.’

            ‘I suppose...but I’m so excited!’ Mary said. ‘I can’t wait, I can’t wait to be Sorted, I can’t wait to learn how to make potions, I can’t wait to—’

            ‘Stop fidgeting, dear, or your hem will come out crooked,’ Madam Malkin said, and Mary was still.

            They went on in silence, Mary reabsorbing herself in thoughts of Hogwarts, of learning how to make objects appear out of nowhere, of making objects zoom through the air towards her, of learning how to be a great duellist (Madam Malkin had to ask her to stop fidgeting again), and she did not come out of her reverie until Madam Malkin told her she was finished with her fitting.

            They entered the apothecary (Gwen wrinkled her nose at the smell) and her mother asked the merchant for a stock of starting ingredients, while Mary examined shelves and barrels full of potion ingredients. There were bunches of unicorn tail hair, boxes of bezoars, several different-coloured bottles and jars, a tank of giant snails that all changed their colour at that moment, jars of leeches and horned slugs, and many, many more reagents than were enough to count. Sean was examining the giant snails, and had just reached out to touch one when a hand closed itself around his wrist and yanked his hand back. He turned to see who had done it, and found that it was Annie.

            ‘Those’re streelers an’ they’re _poisonous_ ,’ she said.

            He looked at the tank. ‘Oh,’ he said after a pause.

            She led her family out of the apothecary, ingredients purchased. They entered Wiseacre’s, and Mary, Sean, and Gwen were immediately distracted by a model of the solar system floating and glittering in a glass ball.

            ‘Oooooh!’ Gwendolyn said jubilantly.

            ‘Extraordinary,’ Sean whispered. ‘Absolutely extraordinary.’

            After a few minutes of gazing at Jupiter’s moons, watching them orbit the planet lazily, Mary examined a globe of Earth’s moon. Some of the other instruments she could only ponder, as she did not recognise them in the slightest, and had no idea what they were for. After another minute Annie took Mary by the shoulder, Mary’s scales, phials, and telescope already purchased and bagged, and called her husband and younger daughter. They left the shop with the purchases and made their way to Potage’s, where they purchased a pewter cauldron, size two.

            ‘Wha’s the difference between cauldrons o’ different metals?’ Mary asked.

            ‘They brew yer potions at different speeds,’ Annie said as they crossed the street and entered Flourish and Blotts.

            Mary picked up _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ and began to read it. The Knockback Jinx caught her eye, as did the Shield Charm. Annie gently took the book out of her daughter’s hands. Mary picked up _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ instead, and flicked through the pages. Hippogriffs looked very cool, nifflers funny, and Lethifolds downright evil. She was just reading about merpeople when her mother took that book out of her hands as well and handed it to her father, who was holding her schoolbooks in a stack.

            ‘Ye can read ‘em when we get back to our room,’ Annie said as Mary reached for yet another book, this time _Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed_. ‘An’ tha’ one’s not on yer list anyways.’ Annie checked the list, running a quill down it and crossing out what they had already bought. ‘Alright, all tha’s left is yer wand an’ a pet, if ye want. Where to?’

            ‘Ollivander’s,’ Mary said. She did want an owl, but she wanted to get her wand first.

            She, her father, and her sister followed Annie to the south side of Diagon Alley, and they entered the shop at the end of the road; a dark, dusty, quiet place with shelves stacked high with long, skinny boxes. Mary looked around the shop, unsure how wand purchasing worked and wondering if Ollivander was out.

            ‘Hello,’ a quiet voice behind her said, and she jumped slightly and looked around to see a man with white hair and silver eyes emerging from the back room of the shop. ‘Purchasing your first wand, are you?’

            ‘Yes,’ Mary said.

            ‘For Hogwarts, of course,’ Ollivander said, and then he noticed her mother. ‘Why, Annie McIntyre!’ he said, smiling and approaching her. ‘How nice to see you again!’

            ‘It’s Annie O’Riordan, now,’ Annie said, smiling and jerking her head towards Sean.

            ‘Hello,’ Ollivander said to Sean. ‘I don’t think I remember you. Did you purchase your wand from another maker?’

            ‘No, I didn’t get a wand at all,’ Sean said. ‘I’m a Muggle.’

            Ollivander raised his eyebrows. ‘Are you? Well, that would certainly explain why I didn’t remember. And who is this?’ he asked in regards to the girls.

            ‘This is Mary,’ said Annie, ‘and Gwendolyn, me daughters.’

            ‘Very nice to meet you,’ Ollivander said. ‘I haven’t seen your mother since she was here for her own wand. Thirteen inches, silver lime, dragon heartstring, rigid, I believe?’

            ‘The very same,’ Annie said, pulling out her wand.

            ‘Of course,’ Ollivander said, taking a paper tape with silver markings on it from around his neck. ‘Now, if you would hold out your wand arm, please....’

            Mary held out her left arm, and the tape measure began taking measurements of its own accord—very odd measurements, at that. It not only measured Mary’s arm from shoulder to fingertip, but also measured her from shoulder to hip, knee to ankle, round her neck, and forehead to chin. Ollivander was standing on a ladder, taking down boxes and muttering to himself.

            ‘That will do,’ he said to the tape measure, and it immediately collapsed to the ground, as inanimate as a Muggle tape measure. He climbed down and set the boxes down on the counter. He removed a wand from the topmost box. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘Eleven inches, walnut, unicorn hair. Unyielding.’ He handed it to her. ‘Go on, give it a wave.’

            Mary made a sort of flourish movement, and as soon as nothing happened Ollivander took it back and swapped it for another. ‘Ten and three-quarter inches, oak, phoenix feather. Very whippy.’ Mary tested this one too, but again, nothing happened. Ollivander swapped it for yet another wand. ‘Thirteen and a half inches, applewood, dragon heartstring. Reasonably supple.’ Yet again, nothing happened when she waved this wand, or the next one, or the next one. Ollivander presented her with wand after wand more and more feverishly as they went on.

            ‘Here,’ he said. ‘Twelve and a half inches, hawthorn, phoenix feather. Surprisingly swishy.’

            The moment Mary touched it she knew she had met her match, as a warm feeling spread from her fingers and up her arm. She raised her wand and brought it down through the air in a slashing movement, and it emitted a plume of green fire. Gwendolyn squealed, and her parents and Ollivander clapped.

            ‘That’s that, then!’ said Ollivander, as Annie opened her bag to pay for the wand. He placed it back in its box, wrapped it in brown paper, and bowed them out as the four left for Eeylops Owl Emporium.

            Mary looked around the dim shop and saw luminous eyes blinking down at her from all angles. She saw owls of all sorts and sizes; large tawnies, barns, and tiny little ones that looked like babies. Her eyes then fell on a large and forbidding-looking screech owl that was looking at her intently. He stretched his wings and flapped them, then tucked them back in. She approached his cage, she and the owl still looking at each other. He tilted his head, and she did the same. He hooted loudly at her.

            ‘Ye’re perfect,’ Mary whispered, and she turned and approached her mother. ‘Mam, I like him,’ she said, pointing at the screech.

            ‘I thought you would,’ Annie said with a half smile (the owl still looked rather threatening).

            They left Eeylops minutes later holding all of their purchases, which now included the screech owl, whom Mary had decided to name Soren. The four returned to their room in the Leaky Cauldron.

            Sean gave himself a quick look in the mirror. ‘You might want to clean your glasses, dear,’ the mirror said, and he jumped and looked at his wife, who nodded. He looked slowly back at the mirror, then removed his glasses, which were indeed quite dusty.

            As he was cleaning them on his shirt, Mary retired to her bedroom with the rest of her purchases. She took one of her robes out and slipped it on over her head. Then she took out the narrow box holding her wand, ripped off the brown paper wrapping it, and took out the actual thing. She took out _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1_ and flicked through it, looking for small charms to try out. She took off her glasses, placed them on her bed, and pointed her wand at them.

 _‘Wingardium Leviosa!’_ she said. They shattered. ‘Ah! Uhm—wait—’ She flicked through the pages again. _‘Reparo!’_ she said, pointing her wand at her glasses again. The lenses reformed in their frames. She looked back in the book. ‘What did I—oh—right—the wand movement....’ She tried again. _‘Wingardium Leviosa!’_ Her glasses lifted up from the bed and floated there in front of her. ‘Hah!’ She smiled.


End file.
